What You Own, Owns You
by Gypsy Feet
Summary: Add an acid and a base together and you get salt and water. xOneshotx


**What You Own, Owns You**

**By:** Emmy.

**Disclaimer: **No ownership claimed, no profit received.

**Spoilers: **Um. Love Hurts. It's set sometime before Euphoria. Very vague though, so don't worry.

**Summary: **Add an acid and a base together and you get salt and water. xOneshotx

**A/N:** Typical work from me. Set in the point of view of Forman, because it's something I haven't done before. I hope you like it. Tell me what I've stuffed up and how I can improve, if you feel like it. Sorry that it's so jumpy and scrambled.

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**_018. you took me in and you drove me out,  
yeah, you had me hypnotized;  
lost and found and turned around,  
by the fire in your eyes_**

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It's getting hard to remember what waking up in your old bed felt like. It's funny because you've spent so much of your time working at PPTH complaining about your boss. And now everything that used to be your life is fading to memories.

You're trying harder than you'll admit to feel the burn of loss.

There's a seat that you've claimed. Friends that you've made. Lives that you've saved. You've changed a lot of peoples lives, made a lot better, made some worse.

You aren't sure if this is what you wanted, but you like Cameron's coffee best.

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You were surprised when Chase told you about Cameron. And House. It wasn't something you would've expected. Not something you particularly wanted. You're smart enough to know that rumors can wreck a good doctor's career. And in your mind you could hear the echoes of what could be said _slutwhorebribed_.

You warned her and it wasn't your fault she didn't listen.

If you got angry when she came to work hurting it was only your big brother complex shading your judgment. You took her out for drinks that night and she got drunker than you. In the noise of the bar she had an eerily steady and piercing gaze.

"Am I a good person?" she asked.

You wonder how long that question had been festering in her. It came out ugly and blunt and her eyes were wide and bright. She was spinning a ring on her finger. You were counting jealous gazes that were sent you're way. Seven. Seven people wanted to be you. Because being you meant being the guy talking to the pretty brunette who was a little bit tipsy.

She was still waiting for you're answer and you didn't know what to tell her. You cocked your head to the side. Kept your eyes on her face because her top had slipped a little too far. You're a good enough man, but she was wearing an obnoxiously bright green bra that you found oddly appealing. It matched her blue top in tone, and you wouldn't admit to knowing that if someone threatened you with a gun.

"You do what you think is right, no one can do better than that," you told her seriously.

You drove her home afterwards and tried to ignore how alone she looked, silhouetted in the hallway light.

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You were standing in a hallway of noise and movement when you saw it first. They were standing two feet apart, House's head dipped a little so he could look her in the face. You wouldn't have paid mind to it, except that you had nothing much to do.

It was easy to imagine that they owned the entire hallway and everyone else was trespassing. Standing as they were, in the middle of it, all stillness and undercurrents and nothings and maybe a few somethings, it was a contrast in the extreme.

They both looked tired and alone and a little bit lost.

Cameron had her arms wrapped around herself, and House was watching her with a retired intensity. You couldn't see her face or hear her voice, but by the nod of his head, you imagined she was talking. When House glanced away and by chance met your eyes you felt like an intruder.

You waited until he returned his gaze to Cameron before you fled.

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The next time you saw them together and alone they were both in his office. Neither noticed you enter the conference room, and it soon became apparent why when Cameron slammed a folder she'd been holding onto his desk.

Arguing, you realized. Not the normal banter, but the anger and hurt of two people that were scared and disagreed. You watched as House made a comment. Watched as it set Cameron on a long lecture which required pacing and hand gestures.

You could hear their voices but not their words. In the safety of your mind you wished you could hear them, but the rest of you didn't. You're fascinated by the way they reacted, react, to each other. The anger and fear and a million other emotions they hide from everyone else seemed to spill into existence when they spent too much time together.

Your breath caught when Cameron turned her face and the glint of a tear on her cheek sparkled in the afternoon light.

She took three deep breaths and, even in another room, you could feel her gather herself together. By the time she turned her face back to House her composure was back and her stance rigid. She said a little bit more and left the room.

She didn't talk to you, didn't even acknowledge you. You were glad because you still felt like a trespasser. When House picked up Cameron's document you noticed the paper trembling. There was a strange sense of satisfaction that he was affected too. And when he popped two Vicodin you remembered a chemistry class.

Add an acid and a base together and you get salt and water.

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When you saw them next you tried to ignore the burn of privacy in their stance. They were standing by the nurse's station, talking. Cameron was smiling about something and if you squinted you could see the shadow of a grin curving House's mouth.

Cameron said something and it flickered to life, a full blown smile on his face and she owned it a little. He spun his cane and angled his head close to hers. His mouth was hovering by her ear and he whispered something. You watched in amazement as she laughed a little and backed away.

She respects their distance, you realized. It shocked you because you always assumed she resented it. But she doesn't and it was just another side of them you won't ever comprehend. You felt close to an expert at it by then, and wondered how 'puzzling relationship ponderer' would look on your resume.

You forgot to breathe when House's left hand darted out to tug on a stray lock of her hair. It was an affectionate gesture that you didn't recognize in him. You didn't know if you liked him better or worse for it, but by how still Cameron went you could imagine that she was just as confused as you.

Today they were happy. You had no idea what Tomorrow would bring. You really didn't care to know. Tomorrow could wait. Because there was a light in her eyes you wished would stay. It might even help you banish the image of her standing alone in her hallway.

It can't be all bad, you decided, and felt the wash of acceptance take you.

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Tomorrow still comes and you feel a little sad for Yesterday.

They're standing by her car. They aren't quite happy or sad or any variation of the two. It isn't very quiet because there's an animation to them both that shouldn't be there. You're a little bit jealous of the undertones in their movement.

Neither understand what's going on, but you think they like the taste of the unknown.

There's a moment when Cameron looks like she's about to do something, her arms unwrap from around her, but she pauses and sticks them in her pockets instead. There's still a distance in them. They aren't quite together and aren't quite separate. It's familiar though, and you don't question it.

You turn your head when you hear the scuff of nice shoes on pavement and see Wilson walking towards you. He glances over your shoulder and smiles a little. He ends up standing shoulder to shoulder with you and runs a hand through his hair.

You think he's going to say something, but it comes out as an amused sigh.

By the time you return your gaze to the pair, Cameron's sitting in her car with her window down. She starts the ignition but makes no move to drive away, the conversation continues quietly, and still rings with privacy.

When House turns to leave you almost miss him tug her top over a bright green bra strap.

You don't though, and the moment is branded in your memory.

When you turn to meet Wilson's eyes neither of you speak. You share a smile and a secret, and part with questions curling with your thoughts.

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.end.

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End file.
